


The War Outside Our Door Keeps Raging On

by theoriginalbookthief07



Series: The ChristyVerse [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), F/M, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Avengers Are Good Bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27264418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoriginalbookthief07/pseuds/theoriginalbookthief07
Summary: It's been a long ride on the crazy train for the gang in Avenger's Tower, and things only get crazier as they deal with new allies, new enemies and previously unknown secrets. But somehow, together, they'll make it all work. Covers events pre, during, and post AoU; fifth in the ChristyVerse.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Laura Barton
Series: The ChristyVerse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962061
Kudos: 2





	1. Night Terror

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the ChristyVerse!
> 
> If you're asking, "What the heck is the ChristyVerse?" then I would direct you to my profile, to the story entitled "We Can Be Found." After that, I would direct you toward either "I Dream Things that Never Were (And Ask Why Not)" or "Never Meant For You to Fix Yourself," depending on where your interests lie.
> 
> The basic summary of my 'Verse is this: about 5 months after the Battle of Manhattan, all the Avengers are living in the Tower. Steve Rogers adopts a seven-year-old girl named Christy. Life ensues. But to actually understand a lot of these one-shots, you need to go back and read my other stories. Otherwise you'll probably be very confused.
> 
> This collection spans the from pre-Age of Ultron to just after. It is not...completely canon compliant. I pick and choose what to follow ;)

**The War Outside Our Door Keeps Ragin' On**

Chapter One: Night Terror

_They said this would happen…_

That was the only coherent thought that could surface in Bucky's brain, as he sat in the corner of his room, biting a pillow to hold back screams.

Since he'd been with Steve, nightmares hadn't really occurred, at least not with any strength. But Bruce had warned him that the more time passed, the more his memories started to break through; the more nightmares he would have.

Tonight had been bad. But Bucky refused to scream, or yell, or cry out.

_If I scream, I'll wake up Steve and Sam and they need sleep and the kid'll be scared and then…_

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the images that flashed like taunting ghosts in his mind's eye.

_Hands roughly pulling him down a hall, screaming in…Russian? German? He didn't know. The scene shifted to a room, where a man in a suit sat calmly while his brain scrabbled to understand what was going on…and then the scene morphed to another cell, where he sat still in a corner while blood dripped down his body…_

_There was pain. Always pain._

_"_ _Your work has been a gift to mankind…"_

_"_ _Fist of HYDRA…"_

_"_ _Assassin. Killer. Gun."_

_"_ _Slave…"_

No one had ever called him this to his face, but he knew that's what he was.

_"_ _You will never escape us…"_

And suddenly, Bucky couldn't hold back anymore.

* * *

Sam sat bolt upright in bed, completely confused as to what had woken him up.

And then he heard the screaming.

"Ah, no…"

In less than half a second, he had scrambled out of bed and stumbled out into Steve's room.

Steve was out like a light. Feeling both thankful and guilty, Sam leaned over and shook his shoulder.

"Steve, wake up. Wake up, it's Bucky. He's having a nightmare."

At the word 'Bucky,' Steve's eyes shot open in a way that would have been almost comical, if it wasn't for the situation.

"No…" he mumbled, rolling out of bed. He dashed over to the door of his friend's room.

Somehow, Steve managed not to charge in like the world was ending. But the sight that greeted his eyes was like his worst nightmare.

Bucky sat in the corner, hunched into an upright fetal position, his eyes shut and his face split in a look of terrified anguish. He was no longer screaming, but that didn't give Steve any comfort.

He would rather hear a scream from Bucky, as opposed to dead silence.

Sam hung back by the door, ready to provide any back up as necessary.

Almost crashing to his knees, Steve pulled himself slightly closer.

"Bucky?" he tried, pitching his voice loud enough to carry, but not to startle. "Bucky, come back. Where are you? It's Steve, we're in Avenger's Tower, you're safe, and I need you to come back to me."

Still breathing heavily, Bucky's eyes slowly slid open and took in Steve's scrunched-down form.

"No…" he moaned.

"It's alright, pal, nobody's gonna hurt ya…" Steve whispered soothingly.

_They'd have to get through_ _**me** _ _first!_

Bucky still looked troubled. "I-I…I w-woke y-you u-up. W-wasn't t-tryin' to…p-please…I didn't mean to, please…"

Steve frowned. "It's alright, I don't mind. I knew you were gonna have nightmares, anyway…"

Bucky shook his head, kept up the litany of begging. "Please, I didn't mean it, I tried to be quiet, please, don't hurt me…"

Like a sudden cold front, Steve could feel all the blood in his veins turn to ice.

_Don't hurt me…_

He wanted to scream, cry, kick, punch— _anything_.

But that would solve nothing.

So instead, he shook his head and tapped Bucky's arm. "Look at me, pal. Look at me."

Slowly, Bucky lifted his head. He couldn't quite manage eye contact, but it was close enough.

"I will never hurt you. And I would _kill_ anyone who tried to hurt you again. On the…" Steve felt his throat choke up. "On the Hellicarier…Buck, when I had to fight you…I thought I'd die. That fight was the worst thing I've ever done. I would never let it happen again."

Steve's calm, anguished words slowly worked through Bucky like medicine.

Of _course_ Steve wouldn't hurt him. Of _course…_

The blind panic that had been pounding his heart was replaced by something like shame.

_How could I ever think…!_

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "Sorry…you're nothing like them. Sorry…"

And suddenly, he was surrounded by arms that were strong and warm and safe, and it was so _good…_

"It's alright…" Steve whispered. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm not offended. You had a bad dream, and woke up scared; of course you were still thinking about _them_. But you're _safe_ , understand?"

"They said I'd never escape them…" Bucky mumbled. "Maybe they're right…"

Steve gave a gentle snort. "Maybe they're _right_? Buck, you _already_ escaped. You already got away. You're only gonna get better."

"But they're still in my dreams…they're still there. And I can't get away…"

"Yeah you can." Steve said firmly. "You can wake up. And when you wake up, come and find me. Or I'll already be there. Either way…you won't be alone."

"B-but what if I wake you…?"

"I _do_ _not_ care." Steve said, enunciating every word with careful precision. "I don't care if this happens every night for the rest of my life, I will get up and stay with you."

Bucky raised his head up and managed, trembling, to look into Steve's face.

"Why?" he whispered.

_I'm not worth it…_

Steve sighed. "'Cause I promised. 'Cause you're my brother, and I love you. And because you're worth it."

Bucky frowned at Steve's apparent mind-reading. "I'm not. I'm…I'm just a gun. A _broken_ gun."

 _No you are_ _ **not**_ _!_ Steve wanted to scream, but instead, he just brushed a strand of unruly hair out of Bucky's face.

"You're my friend." he corrected gently. "Every night you weren't here, I felt like I was missing something. Some _one_. Now, you're back, and I'll be damned if I let anyone take you away from me again."

A small, almost feral smile crept across Steve's face. "If anyone wants you back…they're gonna have to fight me."

The sound of the microwave running drifted into the room.

Steve looked over. "What the…"

Gently lifting Bucky up and moving him over to the bed, Steve looked out the door of the room, to see Sam doing something in the kitchen.

Frowning, he stepped out into the living area. "Sam, what are you doing?"

Sam shrugged. "Takin' a page out of the kid's book. This is for him." he held out a steaming mug that smelled like….

"Hot chocolate?"

"He's had it, he likes it, and he has a good, recent memory associated with it." Sam replied. "'Sides, if I know anything about nightmares, he's not gonna get back to sleep any time soon, and neither will we, so I figured we should just embrace the whole 'awake at two in the morning' deal."

Despite the situation, Steve managed a smile. "Thanks, Sam…" he said, raw gratefulness slipping into his tone. "I dunno what…"

Sam shook his head. "Don't mention it. We've all got scars. Some scars just run a little deeper." He jerked his head at the mug. "Go give that to him."

"Steve?"

Steve and Sam both whipped their heads over to see Bucky standing in the living room, blinking unsteadily into the dimmed lights.

"C'mon and sit down, pal." Steve said. "And try to drink this."

Bucky frowned as he did so. "M-medicine?"

"Chocolate." Sam replied, grinning.

Bucky's eyes brightened immediately and his hands instinctively reached up. He quickly moved them down again. "Sorry…"

_Assets don't get things…except guns._

Steve sighed. "No 'sorrys,' Buck. This is for you." He reached over and set the mug into Bucky's hands. Bucky stared at it…and then took a sip. His eyes shot wide, like he'd just tasted the elixir of life.

Sam moved over to the couch with two more mugs and handed one to Steve. For a moment, all three men sat in silence, sipping the drinks.

"Who needs alcohol, anyway?" Sam muttered. "I forgot how fantastic this stuff was."

Steve gave a wan smile. "Don't tell Tony, or else he'll buy up all the cocoa powder in New York."

"Nah, Tony'll import fancy chocolate powder from France or something." Sam joked, glad his attempt to lighten the mood seemed to be working.

Bucky looked over. "Th-the kid'll be mad we drank this without her."

Steve looked worried…until he realized that this was Bucky's attempt at a joke. He'd been getting better at making them recently.

He snorted. "What Christy doesn't know won't hurt her."

"I-is this gonna go on forever?" Bucky whispered.

Sam sighed. "What? The you having nightmares part or the us drinking hot chocolate at two in the morning part?"

"The me having n-nightmares part…"

"Not forever. Not this bad forever." Steve said firmly. "It'll get better, I swear." He glanced at Sam, with a 'please back me up on this' look.

Sam nodded. "He's right. They'll be slowly less horrible. But right now, they're bad because they're all coming to the surface for the first time." He reached across Steve and touched Bucky's shoulder.

"You come get one of us, next time, understand? I don't care what time it is, you come wake us up, either of us. I had all kinds of weird hours in the military, and I've had calls from patients at crazy hours, so nothing surprises me. You hear me?"

Bucky nodded. "Just…didn't wanna wake you guys up. I didn't know how…" He looked down into the mug, shame clouding his face.

Steve frowned. "Didn't know how to do what, Bucky?"

Something in Sam's eyes suddenly cleared. "Ah. You didn't know how to ask for help. Is that it?"

Bucky nodded again. "I couldn't… _before_. And… _before_ before, in Brooklyn…I don't think I liked it."

Steve snorted. "No, you never did, jerk. You couldn't ask for help if your life depended on it."

"I had to be…strong. For you. For…others."

Steve sighed. "You don't have to be strong now, pal. Look…just think of this as me paying you back all the times you took care of me. We're gonna be even for once!" He smiled softly. "Let me have this, please. I never got to be the strong one."

Bucky looked a tiny bit disgruntled, but managed a nod. "Okay." Pain slipped back onto his face. "I couldn't ask, with… _them_. Wasn't allowed to make noise, except on missions. Wasn't allowed to…" he sighed. "Guns don't talk."

"But people _do_." Sam said. "So talk all you want. Cry, scream…whatever."

"And if you want something, for God's sake, _tell me_!" Steve cried. "I don't care how silly or small you think it is, I wanna know!"

Steve's face was so earnestly serious, that Bucky knew he couldn't possibly be lying.

_And he wouldn't lie to me…_

He had learned a lot of things since D.C. But the most important thing he'd learned was that at all costs, he could trust Steve Rogers.

Bucky bit his lip. It was time for a test. He held out his mug.

Bracing himself, he asked, "More?"

Steve's face went from shock to a smile that could outshine the sun. "Sure, pal. Whatever you want."

Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief as Steve went into the kitchen.

The voices of his nightmares were loud. But now, he had a voice to throw back at them.

_If anybody wants you…they're gonna have to fight me…_

For a brief moment, he allowed the images of earlier to come back to his head. But the scenes were different now.

This time, Steve was there, in full Captain America regalia. This time, Steve burst down the door of whatever cell he was in, pulled him to his feet, handed him a weapon to fight back with.

This time, he wasn't alone.

And their battle cry was the same.

_Fight me…_


	2. Adventures in Christy-sitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to counteract the angst of last chapter, this one is pretty much all pure fluff and cuteness.   
> Chronologically, this takes place after "Never Meant For You To Fix Yourself" but before AoU, when the Avengers are all looking for Loki's staff/the mind stone.

Chapter Two: Adventures in Christy-sitting

James Buchanan Barnes had experienced a lot of terrifying things over the course of his life. But this took the cake.

Yes, he supposed that watching a kid for a few days didn't _exactly_ qualify as terrifying, especially when compared to fighting Nazis, or being mind-wiped and frozen for seventy years.

But this wasn't just any kid. It was _Steve's kid_ , and frankly, he wasn't sure which part of that phrase petrified him more.

 _"_ _It's only until Friday, at the most."_ Steve had said. _"You'll be fine! She loves you."_

Since he and Sam had more-or-less "officially" become part of the Avengers (with Nick Fury's blessing and all), the two of them (and occasionally Clint or Natasha) had been trading off on missions and 'Christy-sitting'.

But this was his first time watching her alone.

_"_ _But what if I have a nightmare and flip out? What if I hurt her?"_

_"_ _Bucky, you haven't had a bad episode for at least three months! And she knows what to do."_

_"_ _What, call the police?"_

_"_ _No, stay in her room until you calm yourself down!"_

In contrast to her stressed-out uncle, Christy was ecstatic at spending half a week with 'Uncle Bucky'—someone she hero-worshipped almost as much as Steve.

As Steve and the rest of the Avengers took off to continue the search for the lost mind stone, he gave Bucky one last reassuring look.

"You'll be fine…"

Bucky sighed. _Here goes nothing…_

As the Quinjet took off, Bucky felt a small hand slip into his.

" _So_ …" Christy said, stretching out the word. "Whaddaya wanna do?"

* * *

As it turned out, Steve seemed to be right, for once. Christy was perfectly capable of keeping herself entertained and doing her homework. (Although she did ask a few questions about said homework, leading Bucky to discover that he wasn't half bad at math).

There was a ton of leftover food in the fridge and freezer, which was a good thing, because although Bucky figured he might have known how to cook at one point, it was not a skill he had retained. (Although he had mastered the microwave.) Fortunately, Christy knew her way around the kitchen.

"I had to make a lot of my own food when Mom was sick." She said matter-of-factly, when he asked how she learned how to cook. "She would read off the recipe and tell me what to do. Sometimes it was really hard for her to stay standing for long. And then, Dad showed me how to cook some stuff."

Bucky's chest clenched up and he fought the urge to grab the girl and never let go.

That night, they both lay sprawled out on the couch, with Christy draped over him like a blanket.

"It's quiet without Dad and Sam." Christy said. "I guess it was pretty quiet when it was just Dad and me. And before that…" she shuddered. " _Way_ too quiet. Poor Dad."

Bucky sighed. "You miss him yet?"

"I always miss him when he's gone. But I'm okay; I'm with you. So I'm safe."

The way she said it so simply, so confident…Bucky had to clench his teeth and blink very hard several times.

"I'm kinda a mess, kid…"

Christy nodded. "I know. But everybody's a little bit of a mess. Even me. But if you're _somebody's_ mess, then…well, it's okay. Because it means somebody likes you, no matter what."

Bucky let out another shaky sigh.

Sam had once claimed that Christy posed a bigger threat to the ideals of HYDRA than any of the Avengers. Bucky had laughed. They all had.

Now, though…he wasn't so sure they should have.

* * *

"No! No…no…"

At the loud cry that came from Christy's room, Bucky shot up off the sofa and went running in.

"What happened?" he asked, taking in the scene. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Christy was sitting on her bed with a very upset expression on her face. The moment she saw him, however, she looked embarrassed.

"It's nothin', Uncle Bucky; I'm okay. I didn't hurt myself. I…" she held up a rumpled piece of cloth. "My favorite shirt ripped."

"Oh…" Bucky grabbed the garment and looked it over. Sure enough, a long tear ran across the back of the shirt, effectively splitting the rather thin material in two. "Jeez, kid, how'd ya manage that one?"

"It got caught on my desk…" Christy frowned, glancing at the sturdy wooden structure which contained some sharp corners. "It was kinda old anyway, but it's my favorite. And it's the only good shirt I have."

Bucky looked puzzled. "Whaddaya mean? You've got enough shirts."

"T-shirts…" Christy mumbled. "Not…nice shirts. Pretty shirts. Shirts that make me look…I dunno…" She looked down. "I wish Aunt Tasha was here."

 _Join the club, kid…_ Bucky thought, trying to figure out just what the heck was going on.

"It's just…" Christy trailed off. "Some of the other girls come to school with make-up and really girly clothes…"

"Make-up?" Bucky shook his head, wishing fervently that Steve was here to deal with this. "Whaddaya wanna wear make-up for? You're nine years old! What, ya wanna look like a chorus girl?"

"No! I just don't wanna stick out!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" Christy looked trapped. "Because I already know too much, but I can't tell anyone. I have to make up stuff all the time; 'cause nobody can know I'm Captain America's kid. And everybody has their little groups and I'm the crazy girl that reads a lot and knows all the answers in class. And Sienna and Tally are in a different class, so I only see them at lunch and recess and I'm _different_ …" She sniffed. "Sorry…"

Bucky grabbed her up under his arm. "Shh…s'alright." He sighed, rocking her back and forth a little. "It's no fun stickin' out, huh? Being alone?"

Christy shook her head. "It's annoying."

"Isn't there _anyone_ you can talk to?"

"Some of the boys are nice. I play basketball with them at recess sometimes. But the girls are weird. They talk about boy bands and crushes—yuck!"

Bucky grinned. "Then take my advice, doll—you're too good for them! Be nice to 'em and all, but don't care what they think. What'a they know about you, anyway?"

"Not too much…"

"Exactly! You're…" he shook his head. "You're gorgeous, kid. Good heart, good head; just like your dad. Don't let anyone tell you different. Or, if they do tell ya—laugh in their faces!"

Christy gave a tiny smile. "Thanks…" she whispered. She frowned down at the ruined shirt. "But I wouldn't mind another shirt, either. It might help to look nice, when I laugh in people's faces."

Bucky looked thoughtful. "Well…I apparently have seventy-something years of back pay sitting in a bank account…"

Christy frowned again. "Could you _handle_ a store? I don't want you to get freaked out."

"For you, kid…I'd handle anything. Lemme go put my arm-cover on, and we can go right now."

The giant smile that ballooned across Christy's face told him that he'd done right.

* * *

Bucky actually had a driver's license now, thanks to his retained driving abilities and the fact that Tony knew a guy (who knew a guy)…

Suffice to say that he now had legal permission to drive on the streets of New York.

( _"And may heaven help us all…"_ Steve had muttered).

They ended up in a Macy's. As they entered the store, Bucky could feel his eyes growing wide at the sheer volume of _stuff_ …

He had been out of the Tower and into stores before, but 21st century excess still gave him a large amount of pause.

_This is the kind of place I woulda been kicked out of as a kid…scruffy hair and patched up clothes…we had more money when I was older, but not enough for stuff like_ _**this** _ _…_

Christy looked up at him and her face got instantly worried. "Are you okay? We don't have to do this…"

"I'm _fine_ , kid. Just…a lot."

Christy looked less nervous. "Oh. Like Dad. Okay." She grabbed his hand. "I think kid's stuff is over here."

The two of them walked over to an area that seemed to be saturated with bright colors and _Frozen_ merchandise.

"Very… _pink_." Bucky muttered.

Christy pretended to gag. "I don't like pink so much. But I like blue and gold…" She held up a soft sky-blue blouse with gold and silver detailing. "This is pretty."

Bucky looked the garment over. Something clicked inside him.

Steve had mentioned once that Bucky had dressed pretty sharp, back in the day.

_"_ _You were always tellin' me what clothes to buy…said if I dressed good, it would give a good impression, even if I was scrawny!"_

"Let me see it on you." he said quietly.

Christy looked up from the shirt. "Dad usually just says okay."

"But how do you know if it's gonna fit you unless you put it on?"

"Oh…yeah." she smiled. "Dad doesn't really like shopping. He just buys me whatever."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'll bet. He never cared about that stuff. Does Natasha ever take you to get clothes?"

Christy nodded. "Yeah, sometimes. She's better about it."

Bucky smirked, making a mental note to tell Natasha to give Steve some tips (or just never let him take Christy clothes shopping alone). "Go try the shirt on, and then show me."

They found a dressing room. Christy went in and came back out in less than five minutes, her face split in a grin.

"I love it! Does…does it look good?"

Her grin faltered a bit as she gazed up expectantly. Bucky smiled and bent down.

"Ya look fine, doll. Gorgeous."

Christy twirled around, her smile back. "Thank you! We can check out now, I'm good!"

Bucky just shook his head. "Oh, no. I've got more'n enough cash for the first time in my life…I ain't lettin' you leave with one lousy shirt! C'mon."

Christy grabbed his hand, her eyes wide with excitement. "Okay!"

* * *

Two dresses, four blouses and a pair of jeans later, Christy was looking like someone had handed her the world.

Bucky felt like _king_ of the world.

He could faintly remember the feeling of straining for enough cash just to buy necessities. Now, with the ability to say "pick whatever you want"…

It made him feel _good_. Proud. Happy.

"Now, _you_ need some stuff." Christy said firmly.

Bucky looked over, shock and mirth sweeping across his face. "What? I got clothes."

"Yeah, clothes you got from… _somewhere_ , or borrowed from _Dad_." Christy muttered. "Or that Dad got you. You don't look good in khaki, by the way."

Bucky crossed his arms. "Okay, hotshot. What should I get?"

Christy smirked. "So glad you asked. C'mon!"

* * *

"Daddy!"

Steve smiled as he and Sam tumbled out of the Quinjet and onto the landing pad connected to Avengers Tower.

"Is that a new shirt she's got on?" Natasha muttered.

Sam frowned. "We're jet-lagged and tired and you _still_ notice that kind of thing?"

" _Spy_ , Wilson. _Spy._ " Natasha replied firmly.

Sure enough, after hugging Steve to bits, Christy twirled around. "Look at my new shirt, Dad! Uncle Bucky got it for me!"

Steve looked his daughter over. "It's great, baby! Really great…did you guys go to a store?"

Bucky snorted. "Have some faith in me, Rogers. The store's still intact. Mostly."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Uncle Bucky got some clothes too…"

"Really?" Steve glanced at Bucky. "This I wanna see."

"Apparently I don't look good in khaki…" Bucky muttered. "So she made me get jeans."

Steve glanced down. "The ones you're wearing now?"

"Yeah…and the shirt…" Bucky smoothed down the fabric self-consciously. It was a dark gray knit shirt—warm and practical (and made him look good…according to the nine-year-old, anyway).

"Nice outfit, Barnes." Natasha said, walking into the Tower.

Sam looked disgruntled. " _Seriously_ , how does she notice that kinda stuff?!"

" _Spy…_ " Steve said, shaking his head.

"And a girl." Christy added. "Girls notice stuff like that. Well…sometimes boys do too."

Steve laughed and the group started into the Tower.

"So…" he muttered to Bucky. "What inspired a shopping trip?"

Bucky snorted. "Her shirt ripped, she said something about already feeling different at school…"

Steve sighed. "She and her friends are in different classes this year. I know it's been rough for her. She's friendly to everyone, but…"

"Some people don't deserve her." Bucky said firmly. "I just told her she's great and to laugh at anyone who says different. And bought her some clothes so she could feel like she can do that."

"Thanks, pal…" Steve shook his head. "I'm glad you were here. Was everything fine otherwise?"

Bucky nodded, watching Christy twirl around the Common Room, welcoming back all the Avengers one at a time.

"Oh, yeah…you were right." He smiled. "It was all fine."


	3. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Chapter Three: Matchmaker, Matchmaker

"They're being _idiots_!" Christy exclaimed, kicking her legs out and pushing herself up on the swing, as though to emphasize her point.

Beside her, leaning against the metal bar of the swing set, Tally frowned. "I wouldn't call Hulk and the Black Widow idiots…" she lowered her voice, "Even if they _are_ your aunt and uncle."

"But they are! They _like_ each other! But they won't say anything! They just stare at each other awkwardly if they're close together and yeah, they _talk_ …but not about important things."

Tally shrugged. "Maybe they're scared."

Sienna, who was swinging next to Christy, looked over. "Scared? Of love?"

"Love can be pretty scary." Tally said quietly. "Especially if you don't know that the people you love will always be there. Then, you're scared to care about people, 'cause what if they have to go away?"

Sienna winced. It was true, her family wasn't exactly rich, but they had always been there, together. Sometimes she forgot that her friends had had pretty hard lives before both being adopted.

Christy pumped her legs out again. "Okay, maybe you're right. But I still say they gotta get together. They'd be good for each other! So, let's play matchmaker!"

"Matchmaker?!" Tally groaned. "Christy, what do any of us know about romantic stuff?"

Sienna looked thoughtful. "When my brother Angelo wanted to ask out his girlfriend, he invited her over and made her a surprise dinner."

Christy frowned. "He cooked it?"

"Well…he kinda ordered takeout from the Chinese place up the street."

"Is he still dating that girl?"

Sienna ducked her head down. "No…"

Tally snorted. "Well, that's a no for Chinese takeout, then. But a special dinner isn't a bad idea. My parents go out to eat by themselves sometimes."

"But we have to make sure they're _alone_." Christy said firmly.

"You live in a tower the size of the Empire State Building!" Tally cried. "Isn't there some floor nobody uses?"

"Well, yeah, but I can't use just _any_ floor, there are some I'm not allowed on! But maybe if I could get everyone else to stay off the Common Floor and then get them down there…"

"That could work." Sienna said. "But what about food?"

Christy shrugged. "Aunt Tasha eats anything, Uncle Bruce likes Indian food."

"Yeah, she _eats_ anything." Tally stressed. "But what does she _like_?"

"I…I dunno. She just sorta eats whatever's around…probably 'cause of the whole 'raised in the Red Room' thing…"

"What's the Red Room again?" Sienna asked, very quiet.

"It's a bad place. They trained people to become assassins. Kids our age…and younger."

Sienna shuddered. "She deserves a happy romance."

Christy nodded fervently. "Uh-huh. And so does Uncle Bruce. Hey, can you guys come over tomorrow? Cause recess is almost up and we need to plan. And…you guys haven't been over for a while."

Tally shrugged. "Dunno why not." Sienna copied the gesture.

"My parents don't care as long as I'm home before eight."

"Okay, that's fine." Christy grinned as the whistle sounded the end of recess. "Let Operation Lovebirds begin!"

* * *

"Aunt Tasha, what's your favorite food?"

Natasha looked over at Christy. It wasn't an overly suspicious question, but it was a bit out of left field.

"Why are you asking?" she replied.

Christy gave a small shrug. "Just wondering. It came up at recess today."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "It _came up_ at recess, huh?"

"Hey, our conversations can be _really_ random." Christy said, completely honest. "They just keep going and going, and pretty soon, we're like 'how did we get here, again?'."

Natasha laughed. "Alright, alright; fair enough." She looked thoughtful. "Food's food; I never really think about favorites too much. Probably a holdover from…certain places."

 _I told them so_. Christy thought, but remembered Tally's point and pushed a tiny bit harder. "But, like, if you absolutely had to pick. Just something; anything."

Natasha frowned. "I…" Suddenly, her face cleared. "Pasta. _Pirogi_. Anything…noodle related." She smirked. "After I got…recruited, by SHIELD, Coulson said I was way too thin. And Clint agreed. So the two of them were constantly looking for ways to fatten me up like a goose for Christmas! And…pasta was easy enough to find. Plus, I didn't…get it a lot, growing up."

Christy nodded, feeling hope rise up in her. _I can do pasta! All you do is boil water; how can you screw that up? And I know how to make a couple sauces pretty good..._

All she said out loud was. "I like pasta, too. I like Alfredo sauce best, and I can make it all by myself."

"Really?" Natasha said. Christy nodded. "Huh…I didn't know you were that good at cooking."

"I'm nine! I know how to make basic food and not burn down a kitchen. Which is more than Uncle Tony can say."

"Hey, now; be nice…that was only once!"

As they veered off into 'safer' topics, Christy pushed down her raging excitement.

_Phase one: check._

* * *

As the elevator opened on the Common Floor, Thor was a bit surprised to hear the high, fast chatter of three preteen girls.

He smiled a bit as he caught sight of Christy and two other girls engaged in some passionate conversation at the kitchen table. To be strictly honest, though he knew Christy was well loved and well looked after, he wished that she could be surrounded more often by children her own age. She spent far too much time immersed in the world of adults.

"Christy, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your companions!" he called out, in what he thought was a mild enough tone.

The effect was instantaneous. Christy, being used to his rather booming voice, merely jumped a bit and looked over. The dark-skinned girl let out a gasp and stood up, but schooled her face into calm. The smallest girl, with skin a shade somewhere in between the two others, sat still and gazed at him with scared, yet penetrating eyes.

Christy grinned a bit. "You come to my house, but you freak out when an Avenger walks in the room?" The other two girls mumbled incoherent, vaguely annoyed remarks. Christy sighed. "Guys, this is my Uncle Thor. Uncle Thor, this is Tally and Sienna, my best friends." she said, pointing to each girl in turn.

Thor smiled. "It is a pleasure." he said kindly.

Tally nodded and said "nice to meet you," but Sienna just kept staring. Finally, she stood up.

"Why are you so _tall_?" she whispered. Startled, she clapped her hands over her mouth. "Sorry! That wasn't supposed to come out…!"

Thor chuckled. "It's all right! I…I know not. There are many tall people on Midgard, are there not?"

Sienna nodded. "Midgard is Earth, right? Christy told us you had different names for places."

"Aye, Midgard and Earth both refer to the same place." Thor swept his eyes over the group. "Now, what were you all planning before I so rudely interrupted?"

The three girls looked at each other. "…Matchmaking." Tally said evenly.

"Ah. I see. Might I ask between whom?"

There was another awkward pause. Christy mumbled. "Uncle Bruce and Aunt Tasha…"

Thor's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Contrary to popular belief, he did possess a decent amount of 'situational awareness,' as it were. He was not immune to the looks that had been passed between Banner and Romanoff (or displayed by one, at the other, when the other was not looking). Clearly, some sort of strong bond was forming between the two.

But for even the child to have noticed…

"Haven't you learned that it's unwise to meddle in the affairs of one's elders?" he said lightly.

Tally shrugged. "Maybe…but it's kinda fun." Sienna nodded.

"Besides, I've been meddling in the affairs of my elders for almost three years." Christy added. "Things always…seem to work out."

Mentally conceding to that point, Thor nodded. "I see. Well, I shall leave you all to your plotting and scheming, then. Good luck to you." At that, he disappeared into the back sparring gym.

"He's nice." Sienna said.

Christy nodded. "Yeah. He's a little overwhelming at first. But definitely nice. Where were we, again?"

"You're gonna tell Jarvis to get Ms. Natasha off her floor and Mr. Bruce out of the lab." Tally prompted.

"Oh, yeah. After that…"

* * *

Bruce Banner had a problem. A really big problem.

He was quite possibly (okay, _probably_ , _most_ _likely_ , _for_ _real_ ) falling for Natasha Romanoff.

And that scared him to no end.

He'd tried to push the feeling to the back of his head, tried to speak and act like nothing had changed in their relationship. But between Natasha's good people-reading skills and his terrible acting, he was sure his attempts had failed miserably.

"Uncle Bruce, do you like Aunt Tasha?"

Since her earliest days in the Tower, Christy had taken to doing her homework in the lab, mostly due to the fact that he and Tony were the best at math, and that was generally the homework she needed help with. Three years later, the level of help she needed had decreased, but the habit still remained.

Bruce jumped and looked back, relieved that Tony was out of the lab for a moment.

"Uh…sure I like Natasha, kid. She's my friend."

Christy sighed. "I'm not stupid, Uncle Bruce. I mean, you _like_ her, like her."

"¿Qué? No te entiendo, niña." Bruce tried, in a last-ditch attempt at changing the subject.

Christy just gave him a long, pitying look. "M-mi amigo…amig _a_ mejor es puer-to-rri-queña." she said, pronouncing the words carefully. "Hablo español un poco. Y tú amo…am _as_ tía Natasha."

Bruce groaned. "I supposed I deserved that."

"Sí. Da. Haan. Yes." Christy replied. "And you taught me the third one. But you're ignoring the topic."

"Kid, there is no topic…"

"Yes there is! What are you so afraid of?"

"Really?" Bruce gave Christy a hard stare. "You really need to ask that question? I'm a danger to society, kid. I'd just…bring her down."

"Ah-hah, so you do admit you like her!"

Bruce sighed. "Alright! Yes, I…like her." his voice caught. "A lot."

There was silence for a moment. Then, Christy whispered, "Why?"

"Because…" Bruce sighed again. "Because she gets it. She gets what it's like to run around the world and be looking over your shoulder, to wake up screaming and shuddering about the lives you've destroyed, about how _your life_ has been destroyed…"

Christy grabbed his shoulder. "Stop." she said quietly. "You're a really good person, Uncle Bruce. And you and Aunt Tasha have had kinda sucky lives. You both deserve a chance to be happy."

Bruce smiled. "Better not let your Dad hear you say 'sucky'."

Christy shrugged. "Sometimes it's the only right adjective. But I mean it, if you like her…don't be afraid to say something. Before it's too late."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, kid…"

Christy mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'ya never know'…and he realized whose kid he was talking to.

"Alright, Christy. I'll try."

* * *

"Dr. Banner?"

Bruce stopped working for a moment. "Yeah, Jarvis?"

"Your presence is requested on the Common Floor by Miss Rogers."

Bruce glanced over at Tony, who looked concerned. "Is she alright, J?"

"She is in no danger, she merely requested that Dr. Banner come down."

Tony shrugged. "Okay, then. Guess she wants Uncle Brucie."

Bruce rolled his eyes as he started down the long staircase to the Common Floor.

Immediately, he knew something was up.

First, Christy was nowhere to be seen.

Second, the table was set with plates, silverware, and what looked like…

"Pasta?" Bruce muttered.

Suddenly the elevator door opened. Natasha stepped out, looking worried. "Christy? Is everything…?" she trailed off at the sight of Bruce, the table, and no Christy.

Suddenly, everything became crystal clear to Bruce.

"Lemme guess…" Bruce said. "Jarvis told you that Christy wanted you on the Common Floor."

Natasha nodded. "Yeah…where is she? And what's with the table? It's got candles and…" Her eyes widened and she groaned. "Oh, _Bozhe_ _moy_ , we've been set up by a nine-year-old."

They looked at each other. Silence filled the room for a minute.

And then, they both burst out laughing.

"I should have known something was up." Natasha said. "She asked me about my favorite food earlier this week…"

Bruce nodded. "She was up in the lab grilling me yesterday, the little mastermind!"

"Grilling you? About what?"

Bruce suddenly found the floor very interesting. But Christy's words came back to him.

_If you like her…don't be afraid to say something…_

"Well…" he said, gesturing at the table. "We probably shouldn't let all this food go to waste…"

"Agreed." Natasha said. They both moved toward the table and sat down. A note rested in the center of the item.

_Dear Uncle Bruce and Aunt Tasha,_

_This is for you, both of you. Nobody's watching but everybody knows to stay off the Common Floor until you're done. Have fun, be nice…and be honest. Love you._

_Christy_

Natasha sighed as she finished reading the note. Honesty wasn't her best skill…

But with some people, it wasn't so hard. Like the man standing opposite her, who looked like he was torn between shouting and crying.

"We…we should probably eat." she said quietly.

They both sat down and served themselves food. Conversation started to flow the minute they both took a bite of pasta and Alfredo sauce.

"This is really good! Did she get this from somewhere?"

"I think she made it herself. She told me she knew how to make it…"

"Not bad for a nine-year-old. Nine…can you believe it's almost been three years?"

Natasha shook her head. "I really can't imagine the Tower without her. It'd be a lot more…I dunno. Empty. Missing something."

Bruce sighed. "Yeah…"

"Hey, remember that one time she held you hostage and made you watch a movie with her and me?" Natasha said.

Bruce looked confused for a moment, and then smiled. "Yeah…and then we talked for two hours after she went to bed. That was…nice. It was…" he swallowed. "The first time I really looked at you."

Natasha grew very still. "And…what did you see?" she said quietly.

Bruce took another steadying breath. "Someone I wanted to see more of. Hear more of. Love…" he shook his head. "It's such a cheap word, in English. We dirty it up on so many lesser things, when we should be saving it for…for the things that really matter. The…people that really matter. Like you."

He took one last deep breath.

"YA…YA tebya lyublyu, Natalia Romanova…sorry, I don't know your patronym…"

"It's Alianovna...but I don't even know if it's real or not..." Natasha murmured faintly. In her heart, a very suppressed, buried feeling was rising to the surface.

Genuine flattery. The kind you feel when you never expected someone to go to so much trouble for you…and they do.

"Since when did you learn Russian?"

Bruce looked sheepish. "I, ah…looked it up. I like languages, thought I'd give Russian a try. Never had a reason to learn it before, but…now I do."

Okay, that did it. Natasha had spent enough time around men to know when they were pulling one over on a woman. Or attempting to.

Bruce Banner couldn't pull one over if he tried a hundred years.

For the first time in…maybe ever, Natasha allowed herself to feel romanced.

"I adore you…" she whispered. And Bruce's face split in such a smile…she'd never seen its equal on his face.

She'd told Loki (admittedly as part of an act) that love was for children. And even as she'd said the words, she'd known they were false. She'd seen Clint's family, seen real love.

But she'd also partially believed her words. In the world of the Red Room, love was a flimsy, pathetic thing. Only the weak loved.

But she thought of Christy, who seemed leave love everywhere she walked. She thought of Clint and Laura, still making it work with all their separation, of Clint's face when he looked at his children. Of…pretty much anyone's face in the Tower, but especially Steve, Bucky, and Sam's when they looked at Christy.

Of Bruce's face now, looking at her…

 _"_ _All it takes is a single candle to hold back darkness…"_ The quote surfaced in her mind and she completed it instinctively.

_"_ _Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars."_

Tonight…Natasha could believe it was true.


	4. When Everything Sad Isn't Coming Untrue

Chapter Four: When Everything Sad Isn't Coming Untrue

Christy hated hospitals.

True, this wasn't exactly a hospital. It was a _nursing facility_. A care home, her dad had called it.

Christy wasn't buying it.

It still smelled and looked and felt like a hospital; a sickly combination of antiseptic and stale air. Sturdy, fake-wood furniture with shiny plastic 'cushioning' sat in the small lobby area. A beat up flatscreen TV, perched on a rolling table, played the news. The floor was hard white tile with a weird color-splotch pattern.

Places like this, in all of Christy's nine years of living, had never meant anything good.

Steve stopped at the small front desk. "Go on, baby; why don't you surprise her? I'm gonna talk to the nurse for a moment."

Christy swallowed her tears. "Wh-what room, again?"

"Number 28. Down that hall." Steve pointed down a slightly dim, stretching corridor. "I'll be down in a second."

It had just so happened that one of Christy's long weekends coincided with a weekend that Steve _wasn't_ away, so the two of them had plotted a visit to Washington D.C. Steve still owned the small apartment he'd stayed in and SHIELD had paid to have it fixed up after a certain…incident had occurred.

_"_ _You mean the part where I smashed through a wall?" Bucky had muttered, half-snarky; half guilty._

Christy walked down the hallway Steve had indicated. Upon reaching Room 28, she peered in.

The room had a simple set up with a bed, small television, closet, night table, and chair. The bed was a metal one, the table and chair the same fake wood as all the other furniture. A window on the far side of the room gave a view of the street, the few trees already bare of leaves.

An older lady lay propped up in the bed, gazing out the window. Her gray, curled hair hung down to her shoulders amd her hands rested on the white comforter covering her.

"H-hi…" Christy said, garbled and shy. Fortunately, the woman still had very good hearing. She turned her head towards the door and immediately brightened.

"Christy? Hello, love! I didn't expect you today. Where's your father?"

Christy inched closer to the bed. "He's talking to the nurse. He said he'd be in soon."

Peggy Carter nodded. "Alright, then. Well, come closer, darling; I don't bite."

Christy sighed, sitting down next to the bed, in the chair. "I don't like hospitals." she said quietly. "Or places like hospitals. Because mom…" her face crumpled up a bit.

"Oh, oh; of course you don't…" Peggy soothed. "But it's not a hospital, darling, truly. I'm not that sick. Just old."

Christy sniffed. "Dad said I didn't have to come. But I wanted to see you. Also, it's kinda sad…you and Dad, I mean. It's worse than Titanic; cause Daddy didn't actually die..."

It was Christy's own opinion that the story of her dad and Peggy Carter was one of the saddest things on earth.

And of course, anything that hurt Steve, hurt her.

"Ah, I see." Peggy sighed. She reached out and grabbed Christy's hand. "Yes, it is sad. I won't lie. But I've lived a long life and done many wonderful things; and now your father gets that chance. And I'm so incredibly happy for him...there's so much he can do now." She smiled at Christy. "I always knew he'd make a wonderful father."

Christy gave a wobbly smile. "He's the best ever…"

"There, now, that's more like it! Your face looks better with a smile on it. Now come, tell me how you've been getting on in school."

Christy made a face. "School's school. It's okay most of the time. But everybody just seems…immature…"

Peggy shook her head. _For a child who has run the gauntlet of everything before reaching a decade…I'm not surprised._

"Is there _anything_ exciting about it?"

Christy shrugged. "I like to see my friends. And I like to read. Oh, and history! History's fun. We're finally gonna learn about World War II and I'm gonna know all the answers!" she pouted a bit. "Of course, I can't tell anybody else that, cause they'll ask why. So I gotta play dumb. Like a spy."

Peggy smirked. "Beginning espionage training so soon?"

"Well…I don't really wanna be a spy, cause it's kinda scary. Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint have some freaky stories…I wanna be a therapist, or a counselor. Help people with hurt brains and hurt hearts."

It was the mention of hurt brains that brought up something in Peggy's mind.

"I hear you've two new uncles in your Tower."

Christy smiled. "It's not _my_ Tower, it's Uncle Tony's. Technically. Or all of ours, I guess. And yeah…I like having two other people on our floor. It feels like a house and not a hotel room."

"Steve also told me you've been a big help to all of them."

Christy shrugged modestly. "I just try to be nice. And…Uncle Bucky was pretty banged up. Inside, I mean. Well, outside too, but mostly inside."

Peggy inhaled sharply, remembering all of Steve's news.

Bucky Barnes was back from the dead, as it were, but at the cost of having spent seventy years as a living weapon.

That the man was still functioning was a miracle.

Yet despite it all, she was still so, so happy, for Steve's sake. She could remember the days after Sergeant Barnes had fallen from the train, how Steve had stumbled about like a zombie; alive, but not really. It was all she could do to help him stay sane.

Christy frowned. "I don't like HYDRA." she said firmly. "They say they wanna bring order, but I think that's just a fancy way of saying they wanna be in charge of everything. The bad kind of in charge. Like the Nazis."

 _HYDRA_. That was the other thing. The organization she'd spent her entire life trying to combat and prevent from existing, and all this time it had been growing like a weed inside SHIELD. Inside _her_ organization…

Over the past three years since Steve had been found, Peggy had had to put so many of her dreams and regrets to death.

But SHIELD…that had been the hardest blow of all.

As though she could sense Peggy's mood (and why _shouldn't_ she be able to?) Christy was sitting quietly in the chair, her knees drawn up to her chin.

Peggy sighed. "I'm alright, darling. Just a lot to think about."

Christy nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I have Alexander Pierce, y'know the old SHIELD Secretary, the traitor…I have his face on my punching bag. And it's been beat up over fifty times in five months."

"So many times? By you?" That was a _bit_ concerning…

"Well…Uncle Bucky borrows it sometimes."

Peggy relaxed. "Ah. That makes sense."

It did indeed.

_Punch him all you like for me, would you, Barnes?_

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Steve's head poked in the door, before he entered. "How're my two best girls?"

Christy stood up at once. "I'm gonna go the bathroom."

"Baby, you don't have to…" Steve started, but she was already halfway out the door.

"She's rather perceptive." Peggy said, a sparkle in her eye.

"Yeah…a bit _too_ perceptive." Steve sighed and sat down next to the bed. "How have you been, Peg?"

The woman smiled softly. "Can't complain, really. I get a parade of relatives through here at odd times. I have a lot of time to read…to think…"

"Think…" Steve sighed again. "Yeah, I'd imagine you would be doing a lot of that. It's been…a bit crazy at my place."

"'Crazy'. So you said in your letter." Peggy frowned. "Now, tell me truly, Steve, how has it been? Are you sleeping enough?"

"I'm sleeping fine!" Peggy raised an eyebrow. "When…when Bucky's not having a nightmare, or _I'm_ not having a…well, they aren't really nightmares, now."

"What do you see?"

"I see…I see us. I see what could have been. And I know it's stupid, and useless, but I can't help thinking what if…" He shook his head.

"And it's silly, isn't it? I tell Christy all the time, 'what ifs' are stupid. But…"

"It's rather harder to tell yourself, isn't it?"

"Yeah…much harder."

They lapsed into quiet, companionable silence. But Steve could only think one thing.

_I know sometimes, dreams have to die so you can move on and make new ones.  
_

Sam had taught him about that one.

_But why does it have to hurt so_ _**bad** _ _…?_

Even shrunken and wrinkled, Peggy was still Peggy. If he shut his eyes, he could let himself be transported back across the years that had been stolen from him…back to a time when all was familiar…

"I know." Peggy's voice broke through his thoughts. "I know, Steve, it isn't fair. Especially not for you. You've had to let go of so much…so much has been taken from you. But never," her voice became fierce, "never lose sight of what you've been given. For God's sake, your friend came back to you from the living dead!"

Peggy's words had a clearing effect on his mind. Steve felt the shadow that had fallen over him grow less.

"I won't…" he croaked. "I couldn't. I still get up and have to rub my eyes, convince myself it's not a dream…" he choked back a sob. "He's been hurt, but he's _here_. And it's the most amazing thing. I don't care about the nightmares, the freezing up, the memory gaps…it's _Bucky_. He's back."

"I know…" Peggy smiled. "You've no idea how happy I am. I was so worried for you, after…" she trailed off.

Steve's eyes showed the pain that had dulled, but still not fully healed. "If it wasn't for you…I might have been dead for real. And now, he's back but you're…not." He shook his head and gave a mirthless chuckle. "I just can't win. We couldn't win."

"No…" Peggy said softly. "Not how you thought we would. Not how I thought."

Steve just sat quietly, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's all right, to mourn. To be a bit selfish." She smiled sadly. "God knows I did…"

"I know…" Steve finally choked out. "I know. For anything to die…that hurts. But a dead dream hurts the worst, I think."

"Well…" Peggy grabbed his hand lightly. "There's a spare pillow in that closet. If you're going to break down and don't want to frighten anyone in the corridor half to death with screams…"

"I wouldn't scream…I don't scream."

Peggy just shook her head. "I did."

And that did it. The thought of Peggy in pain, Peggy thinking he was dead…

Something large and heavy and kicking broke loose inside Steve's chest. He threw open the closet door, and grabbed the pillow that rested neatly on a little shelf. In one, fluid motion, he shoved it to his face…

And howled. Quietly, but God help him, he _howled_.

Because Peggy was right. He'd been running so fast, ever since he'd woken up, that he'd never gotten to properly mourn. Not for this.

He'd mourned the loss of everything familiar…but not that specific dream of growing old with the woman he loved, of having a normal home…

Somehow, he managed to grope his way back to that stupid chair. And he sat there for what felt like an eternity.

The next thing he was aware of was a tiny hand rubbing circles all over his back.

He poked his head up. Christy was back. He tried to duck his head down again, but she caught his chin.

"You _promised_." she whispered. "You promised I could always see you cry."

Steve let out a shuddering breath. "I know, baby." He turned back to Peggy, with her gentle, sad gaze. "I…I'm okay now. I think."

From the twist of her lips, he was sure Peggy didn't buy that at all.

"I…will be okay?"

"That's better. And believable." She reached out and touched his shoulder. "It's going to take time…" she sighed wearily. "A long time…"

"Are you getting tired?" Steve asked with concern. "Maybe we should go."

"No, don't…at least stay until I fall asleep."

It was all Steve could do not to cry, again.

Christy tugged on his sleeve. "Dad, tell Aunt Peggy about when Uncle Bucky found out you jumped out of a plane without a parachute and he dragged you off and yelled at you…"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Why don't _you_ tell that one, since _you're_ the one who seems to find it funny."

Even dozing off, Peggy was able to smirk. "Did it beat out the time he found out about the grenade?"

"Probably not, considering the whole camp heard that one…"

Christy even winced. "Uncle Bucky's not that loud…"

"He used to be…" Steve said, shaking his head. "But tell the story, baby. I've been talking for a while."

"Okay." Christy drew herself up and began. "It all started when we were eating breakfast on the Common Floor…"

By the time the story was over, Peggy had quietly dozed off. Steve smiled and brushed his hand over her hair tenderly.

"I'll be back tomorrow." he whispered. "We both will."

They left the facility, heading up the street. It was in walking distance from the apartment. Christy was holding Steve's had so tight, he swore it would soon turn red.

But oddly enough, he didn't mind it.

He was still thinking about dreams. About starting over. About loss and regret…

_Once I built a railroad, I made it run_

_Made it race against time_

_Once I built a railroad, now it's done_

_Brother, can you spare a dime?_

The lyrics of so long ago (but it wasn't really all that long!) ran through his mind. Sure, he hadn't had a railroad, but he'd built…something. A vague hope. A dream.

Peace…

He remembered Bucky's words to him a few weeks back: _"If it wasn't HYDRA, it'd be someone else. People always try to rule the world. Every age, every generation…it's all the same."_

Christy looked up at him. "Are you gonna be okay?" she asked, her brow knit with worry.

Steve reached down and swung her up on his hip. He always felt a hilarious amount of satisfaction that he was able to still do that, even though she was now at least half a foot taller and twenty pounds heavier than when he'd first adopted her.

"I'm…I'm tired, baby; that's all. It's been a long day."

_It's been a long three years._

Christy laid her head on his shoulder. "I love you. I'm sorry. I know it's gotta hurt..."

 _This isn't about you._ The thought flew through his brain, fast as lightning.

Steve sighed. It was true. Everything he did; every HYDRA nest he took down, every conspiracy unmasked or alien destroyed…all his Avenging…

It wasn't about him anymore. It was more than personal. Because his daughter deserved to inherit the world better than what it currently was.

He thought of the song lyrics again.

 _Who needs a dime? Better yet, who needs a railroad?_ He smiled a bit, down at Christy, her blond hair gleaming in the sun. _I've got crystal and gold right here. And maybe someday…_

Maybe it was time to start dreaming again.


	5. Tall, Dark, and Snarky; Times Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who's read my story "I Dream Things That Never Were (And Ask Why Not)" know that my universe's Loki is different than in cannon. Mainly, he's had a redemption arc and several epiphanies about...various things. So he's not a jerk, but he's still snarky. I sometimes have difficulty in writing him, because it's hard to find the right balance to express this.
> 
> Basically, if you haven't read "I Dream Things..." you should probably go check it out, in order for this chapter to really make sense.

Chapter Five: Tall, Dark, and Snarky; Times Two

On the high, stone balcony that looked out over all of Asgard, Loki stood still, as though gazing out at the people and buildings below him would solve the restless feeling inside him.

He missed Thor. Here, alone and in private, he could let himself admit it. Ever since his return from exile, the two had been practically inseparable. But Thor was back on Midgard now, in search of his old staff (and the mind stone contained therein).

To speak (or think) even more truthfully, he was missing a few other things (people) on Midgard as well. He was debating going to pay Heimdall a visit, when a voice suddenly sounded behind him.

"You are much quieter of late. You miss him."

It was Sif. Strangely enough, in the time since Thor's departure, she had taken to subtly checking on his state of well-being. Loki supposed it might have something to do with guilt over that incident between them on Midgard, or perhaps out of love for Thor.

Or maybe she didn't hate him quite as much as he thought. Things had changed since the Dark Elves attacked (since Frigga had almost perished…).

Loki clenched his teeth and refused to allow his mind to go in that direction.

"Perhaps I do." he said quietly. "And what of it? We are brothers, after all."

"After all…" Sif echoed. "Indeed. And you have been going to see Heimdall quite a bit." She came up and stood beside him. "I'd wager that Thor is not the only one on Midgard you miss. The little girl has surely grown older."

Loki smirked a bit. "Yes. Well. Children do tend to do that, you know."

"I'm aware, trickster." Sif muttered, though with less malice than she might once have. "You have yet to go back, since your exile."

"If you haven't noticed, I've been a bit busy!"

Sif rolled her eyes. "Aye, I've noticed. Everyone has. That is why your father asked me to find you…apparently your presence is requested in his study."

Loki frowned. That Odin would ask to meet in his study was significant—it meant privacy from prying eyes and ears, so it also meant something important.

"Thank you, then. I'll…go now."

Sif nodded and hid a smirk as Loki walked bewilderedly off toward Odin's study.

_You're going to enjoy this summons, trickster, I promise._

* * *

"Pardon me…I must be going deaf. You're asking me to do _what_?"

"I'm asking you to make an official visit to Midgard, so that you may make a report back to me on Thor's progress toward finding the mind stone." Odin repeated patiently, once more casting a sweeping gaze over his youngest

Yes, Loki definitely needed to get _off_ of Asgard, after everything that had occurred in the last year. Or maybe just in close proximity to Thor.

That was it.

"But couldn't you just ask _Heimdall_ , the one who _sees everything_ what's going on?" Loki said, not sure where his father was going with this.

"I could…but it would lack the personal touch of a hand delivered report. Or mouth-delivered in this case. And…you are his brother. You will know how he is truly doing."

All very sound reasoning…but Loki still smelled a rat. He glanced at Odin suspiciously for a moment, until the older man huffed in exasperation.

"Come, come, Loki; I'm practically gift-wrapping you a chance to return to Midgard! Now, are you going to continue this staring match, or are you going to start packing?"

Loki's skeptical gaze slowly gave way to a small smile as he saw that his father was truly serious.

"I…believe I'll start packing, then. Has mother been informed?"

"And who do you think proposed the idea?" Odin replied. "Be _safe_ , my son."

 _My son_. It still felt good to hear that, after all that had happened. Loki felt a small twinge of excitement at returning to the place where he had learned that no rift was ever beyond mending.

"I'll be staying with the so-called _Earth's Mightiest Heroes_ , what could possibly go wrong?" he said mildly.

Odin just shook his head. "One never knows, on that realm."

As Loki exited the study, he let the pleased expression on his face morph into outright happiness.

He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this 'assignment'.

* * *

"Are you ready, my prince?"

Loki grinned, really grinned, as Heimdall uttered the words. "I am. It's been far too long."

"Where would you have me open the portal, then?"

This time the grin was a smirk. "The Common Floor of Avenger's Tower."

In an instant, he found himself standing exactly there.

He frowned, glancing around the Floor. Stark had done some re-decorating since the last time he was here (he was fairly sure that staircase was new and so was the furniture; though the bar and kitchen remained in place) but it was distinctly empty of people.

Cloaked in invisibility spells, Loki had been hoping to surprise everyone in the Tower.

(Mostly because he wanted to see the looks on everyone's faces when he showed up out of nowhere.)

Unfortunately, he had forgotten one small detail…

"Hello, Mr. Odinson. Sir has already been alerted to your presence."

Loki cursed quietly.

_I forgot about the AI…_

"Hello, Jarvis." he said, flashing his normal, charming smile and uncloaking himself. "And hello, Stark, because I'm quite sure you can see me."

There was a small pause, almost as if Jarvis was taking a message from Tony.

"Mr. Stark's words are, and I quote, 'What the hell are you doing here, Reindeer Games? Some of us just got back from a mission and jet lag sucks.'"

Loki frowned. "What's jet lag?"

"A psychological and somewhat physical condition in humans that occurs due to disruption of the body's natural rhythms and sleep patterns. It usually occurs after long-distance air travel, which most residents of the Tower have experienced within the last 24 hours."

"Ah. I see. I take it that most everyone is asleep, then?"

"That would be correct. You might want to retreat up to your brother's floor, until they are a bit more…civil." The AI paused again. "Sir wishes to say that he was perfectly civil, thank you very much."

Loki smirked. He rather liked Jarvis. "Tell him that I'm quite sure. At any rate, I do believe I will take your advice."

He got on the elevator and pushed a dimly familiar button. It was such a strange feeling, being back. Everything was the same, and yet…a dark cloud of foreboding seemed to hang over the atmosphere.

Something was going to happen soon, of that he was sure.

* * *

Although Thor was more or less immune to what the rest of his team referred to as 'jet lag', he was still rather tired after their last skirmish with yet another HYDRA base.

Had it been twelve? Thirteen? He'd lost count.

He was lying in bed, in that drowsy place halfway between waking and sleeping when he felt the distinct presence of someone else in his room.

Considering that anyone living in the Tower would have knocked…

Careful to keep his muscles relaxed, Thor opened his eyes the barest amount to peer through his eyelashes.

When dark hair and pale skin filled that blurry image, his eyes shot open immediately.

Loki smirked as Thor sat up in bed and gaped at him in shock. "Miss me, brother?"

"You! I…Loki…" Thor stood up and smashed his brother in a very strong embrace.

While the physical contact was nice (there was no one quite like Thor for physical contact)…

"Thor! Thor! Let me _breathe_ , you oaf!" The grip loosened. Loki sighed. "By the Norns, I've missed you…" he muttered, quick and low. Thor was the sappy one, after all, not him! He had a reputation to keep up!

"I can't believe it!" Thor cried, releasing Loki from a full-on hug, but still grabbing his shoulders. "You're here…" He suddenly frowned. "Has something happened? Do I need to…"

"No, no, nothing of the kind! Father wanted a report on your progress of tracking down the mind stone."

Thor relaxed. "Ah, I see. Well, I wish I had better news to report, but unfortunately, we're no closer to tracking down the mind stone than when we began. These bases…they're like insects! They multiply _everywhere_ , but still no stone!" He stopped, his face twisted in frustration. "You will stay for dinner?"

Loki fought the urge to burst out laughing. " _Of course_ I'll stay, you idiot. I'll stay for several days if it's no trouble..."

"Trouble?" Thor smirked. "Brother, nothing could be more trouble than the last time you stayed in this Tower. Compared to then…no trouble at all."

* * *

Sam turned to Steve in the elevator on the way down to the Common Floor. "So let me get this straight. The guy who tried to level Manhattan is currently in our 'living room'?"

Steve sighed. "Yes. Apparently." He shot a backwards glance at Bucky, standing quietly behind him.

It wasn't that he was _unhappy_ Loki had shown up…and Bucky was a thousand times better about meeting new people now than he had been several months ago…

But still. It was _Loki_.

Bucky caught the glance and rolled his eyes. "I'm _fine_ , punk. When are ya gonna stop treating me like I'm made 'a glass?"

Steve rolled his eyes back. "Welcome to my world, or my _former_ world, at least. This is payback, pal."

Before Bucky could come up with some kind of reply, Christy cut in. "It's okay, Dad. Uncle Loki will behave. If he doesn't, I'll glare at him."

Sam smirked. "And the sad part, gentlemen? That would probably be effective."

But a glare was the last thing on Christy's face as the elevator opened on the Common Floor.

Loki and Thor were leaning against the bar counter, having some kind of conversation with Bruce and Tony. Christy shot out of the elevator.

"Uncle Loki!"

Loki whirled around just in time to get a chest-full of nine year old.

"You're back, you're back, you're _back_!"

"Well, I did promise…"

Christy stepped back and crossed her arms. "Yeah, almost _two years ago_!"

"It's been busy!"

"Uncle Thor told us. But he came back."

"I am not an Avenger."

"That can be arranged."

Loki actually laughed at that one, while his gaze swept over Christy in more detail.

Her hair was still long and blonde, probably a bit longer. Her smile was still bright and luminous. But something had changed.

And it wasn't just the fact that she was taller and her body was starting to look less like a small child's.

Her eyes were shining, but they were ringed in shadow.

_She's seen things…felt things no child should have to, even more than before._

Innocence appeared to have given way to a determined idealism.

"You've grown so…" he whispered.

Christy sighed. "Why does _everybody_ say that? I _know_ I've grown!"

But a small glance at and a nod from Steve was enough to confirm his suspicions. Much had changed since he'd been away.

"I brought you something." he said, holding out a small, rectangular package.

Christy grabbed it eagerly. "Thank you! Is it a book? I love books…" she tore off the wrapping paper to find a leather-bound journal with her name written across the cover in golden calligraphy.

She gently opened the book and discovered an inscription written in flowing handwriting.

"' _May this book be a place of sanctuary when all safe places are gone. Remember that words are stronger than any weapon._ ' Oooh! I like it! Thank you, Uncle Loki."

"So where's my present, Reindeer Games?" Tony said, feigning a hurt tone.

Loki spread his hands out and smirked in that endearingly annoying manner of his. "Is not my glorious presence enough of a gift, Stark?"

Sam snorted. "Oh yeah, this is definitely the guy that tried to take over the world." He walked over and stuck out his hand. "Sam Wilson. Resident flying sniper and token only sane man." Jerking his head back at Steve, he added, "I do everything he does, just slower."

"You don't do _everything_ I do…" Steve muttered.

"Ah, you're right…I don't jump outta planes with no parachute."

Steve growled lightly. "One time, _one time_ , over _water_ …I'm never gonna live that one down, am I?"

"Nope." Came the sound from nearly everyone else in the room.

Loki returned Sam's handshake and then glanced over to where Bucky stood quietly, taking in everything. "And you are?"

It was an utterly rhetorical question. Heimdall could not see things in great detail, perhaps, but he could see enough that both Thor and Loki had been kept up-to-date on what was occurring on Midgard.

Loki had heard bits and pieces of Steve's story during his exile period…and considering the fact that Steve's body language looked very like _Thor's_ when someone would challenge _him_ …

It was rather obvious who this was.

Bucky sighed and moved forward. "Bucky Barnes." he said quietly. It was a good thing that Loki was nowhere near as physically intimidating as Thor. "Heard a few things about you."

"Likewise." Loki said calmly. "It's a pleasure to meet the only man that could keep Captain America in check."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Welcome back, Loki." Suddenly, his eyes roved the room. "Where's Tasha and Clint?"

"They took off for the weekend, remember?" Bruce said quickly (and a little sadly).

"Oh, right." The blond sighed. "I still wish I knew where those two run off to."

Tony shrugged. "Eh, they probably have a secret love child somewhere."

Bruce gave Tony a very withering glare. Christy looked put out.

"Nuh- _uh_." she said. "Not after all my matchmaking!"

Loki's eyebrows shot up. "Matchmaking?"

Bruce turned a very interesting shade of deep pink.

 _Well_ _ **this**_ _is new._ Loki thought. His brain scrabbled to process the idea of the gentle, guilt-ridden scientist and the devious ex-assassin as a pair.

Somehow…the idea wasn't entirely insane.

"So…how've things been on Asgard lately?" Bruce asked, blatantly trying to change the subject.

"Quite well, though rather busy. There was a lot of damage after the Dark Elves attacked." Loki grinned in Thor's direction. "The statue of our grandfather now has his head back, Thor."

Thor rolled his eyes.

"Why does that matter?" Sam asked, waiting for the inevitable story behind such a remark.

"Well, Thor, ah…sort of decapitated said statue while attempting to fly a ship out of Asgard to go and confront the leader of the Dark Elves. When father had specifically told us not to go. And while we were being shot at."

There was dead silence for a moment.

"You never told us that part…" Christy said, looking at Thor accusingly.

"Yeah, I'm with the kid on this one, Point Break." Tony chimed in. "Let's hear this thing in full. All you ever told us was some mumbo-jumbo about Dark Elves and a magic substance and the end of the world…or whatever…"

As Thor protested that the events of last fall involved a good deal more than that, Loki quietly faded into the background and made his way over towards Bucky.

He couldn't help it. The man intrigued him a great deal.

"So…" he muttered, once he was sure that Bucky was aware of his close proximity. "What sort of things did you hear about me?"

He cursed internally. _Smooth, Silvertongue,_ _ **smooth**_ _._

Bucky shrugged. "Heard the usual, 'bout how you sorta leveled Manhattan. Tried to rule the world. All that. Also heard your childhood was less than ideal." He paused. "The kid likes you."

His tone implied _so you're okay in my book_.

Loki let out a soft laugh. "You're taking character references from an eight year old?"

"Nine." Bucky corrected swiftly. Loki froze, appeared to be conducting a mental count, and then shook his head.

"Nine. Of course…I've been away too long."

There was silence for a moment.

"To answer your question, yeah, I do take character references from a nine year old. She's a pretty decent judge of character. But Steve…he said you were all right, too."

"I'm not surprised to hear that, considering he was the only one besides my brother that didn't want to murder me when I was exiled here."

Bucky shrugged. "Steve's…different. He'll give ya a chance, and five more besides, but take advantage of people he cares about and…well, you'll kinda wish you weren't born." He nodded at Christy. "She picked that up from him."

"Indeed. I would hate to be the true enemy of either of them." Loki gave Bucky another sideways look. "I was told you fell off a train…"

Bucky let out a harsh sigh. "Yup…off of a train, off of a mountain, into the snow." He shuddered. "Heard you fell off a bridge, into space."

"I let go. I…I was angry." Loki hung his head a bit. "Foolish and angry."

"And they thought you were dead." Bucky added.

"Yes…" Loki sighed. "Looking back, I rather wish I could have avoided that part. But I truly thought no one would mourn me if I were to die."

Bucky shot Loki a slightly incredulous look. "Jeez, you _really_ weren't thinkin' straight. Thor…he's with you like Steve is with me. He'd take on everything to make sure you were okay. It's an older brother thing. I have it too, which makes for some serious head-butting, now. I was always the oldest, and Steve was a shrimp, a pipsqueak. Now…" he shook his head. "Now it's hard. Lettin' someone else fight for me, even just about little things."

"It's rather hard when you're the younger, as well." Loki muttered. "Older brothers cast long shadows. Sometimes, they're comforting. Other times…suffocating."

"We don't try to do it." Bucky said quietly, almost apologetic. He knew Loki was right. Steve had never really been jealous of him _per_ _se_ , but Bucky had seen it in his eyes, the embarrassment when everyone looked at tall, strong, confident Bucky Barnes, and ignored skinny, asthmatic Steve Rogers.

He was just glad that he'd apparently been a bit more observant than Thor, growing up, and had consistently reminded Steve of his good qualities again and again.

"I know that now." Loki said firmly. And indeed, he did. He and Thor had more than made up.

The level of noise started to decrease as Thor finished his more complete rendering of the fight against Malekeith.

"Okay, but seriously, you have spaceships on Asgard?" Tony cried. "Why did nobody ever tell me this?"

Thor smirked. "It never came up."

"What, did you think Asgard was some sort of technological backwater, Stark?" Loki snarked.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Well, considering the two of you sound like you fell out of Middle Earth…"

"Yeah, but Tony, we never did ask…" Bruce pointed out.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Bruce! Science bros for life remember?"

"He's supposed to be on your side, even if you're _wrong?"_ Sam questioned.

"I'm Tony Stark! I'm always the right side to be on, even if I'm wrong!"

"Coulda fooled me…" Bucky said, quiet as usual, but with sarcasm leaking out.

Steve couldn't help but grin. Bucky's recovery of the sass and sarcasm that had pervaded his speech before the fall was as much a victory as his recovery of anything else.

Tony groaned. "Great. Tall, dark, and snarky, times two. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the lab; I've done my social quota for the day."

Loki grinned as the banter he'd missed began to ebb and flow like a current.

Even if it was for just a short time, it was good to be back.

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky, Steve, and Sam being bros is my crack. I will always love it. I wish we had more of it in the movies.


End file.
